The Rosary Bead
by Luca-Pacheco
Summary: This is a How did they get together? story, or more like a how did he finally make the decision? story, feat. another Grissom. Spoliers for 5th season, 7th season and a subtle shoutout to season 6. GilSara, R&R please!


**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI, sadly.

Thanks to Coldtoes22 for betaing me, you're a great Beta!

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**The Rosary Bead**

Catherine was walking down the hallway. After a double shift, all she wanted to do was go home and rest – but first, she decided, she would go to the break room to grab a cup of coffee and stretch her aching muscles. While she was on her way down the hall, she saw a lovely older lady who seemed to be lost. She had a "sweet grandma" aura going on but otherwise, she looked tall, elegant and slender for her age.

"May I help you?" asked Catherine. But the lady didn't answer, so she came closer and in front of her, and asked again:

"Excuse me, can I help you? You seem to be lost."

"Oh yes, thank you." said the woman in a somewhat strange voice. "I'm looking for my son."

"I'm sorry, but the coroner's office is in the next building. I'm sorry for your loss," concluded Cath sincerely.

"What? Oh oh, no no no, my son is not dead, he works here at the crime lab."

"Oh! I see. I'm sorry, it's just that, well, you know," Catherine said. "What's your son's name? Maybe I know where to find him."

"His name is Gilbert Grissom, he works nights."

"Oh my…! Really? Wow. This is a surprise. I'm Catherine Willows, I work the swing shift, but I used to work nights with your son," Catherine introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman. Now that she thought about it, Mrs. Grissom's dark blue eyes and once-black hair were just like her son's.

"It's nice to meet you too."

"Well, Grissom is about to finish his shift, but why don't you come with me and grab a cup of coffee?"

So they went to the break room where Nick, Greg, Sofia and Warrick were relaxing. Catherine served some of Greg's famous coffee and introduced her to them. Mrs. Grissom had to ask them to talk to her face, so she could see them because she was deaf. Then she smiled and told them not to worry, that she could read lips.

"I'm quite impressed," she commented, "you all look like models. I really feel like I'm in a fashion show rather than a crime lab. Gilbert is quite reserved and doesn't tell me much about work. But he has told me a couple of things about you all."

"Oh really? What has he told you?" asked Greg, mildly eager.

"Well," Mrs. Grissom said, smiling, "he said he had a wonderful team, but now it was divided. He mentioned there was a new CSI who was very enthusiastic, albeit still a little green."

"That's me," admitted Greg. "I'm Greg."

"I thought so. It's nice to meet you, Greg." She looked around the room. "Now there was another new CSI on his team, somebody who was on another shift before, and that she was very smart and fitting in well."

"That's Sofia, right there, Sofia with an F-" said Greg and pointed to Sofia. Sofia waved her and she waved back.

Violet smiled. "And where is the nice guy on the other team who was very committed to his job, but also a little naive and thinks cows drink milk or something."

"Nick!!! He's here…"

"And I all ready know cows drink water, not milk, thank you. Nice to meet you, Ma'am."

"Nice to meet you too, cute boy. And there is another boy, isn't it? One who's very focused and friendly."

"That's Warrick!"

"Ohhh, but he never told me about your gorgeous green eyes!", she said. Warrick smiled at the lady shyly, dreading the thought of Grissom describing his 'gorgeous green eyes' to his mother. "He also told me about a good friend of his, who has a beautiful daughter. I'll assume it's you, Catherine"

"Oh yes, that's me."

"I'm David Hodges, from the DNA lab. Nice to meet you, lady."

"Nice to meet you too. He's mentioned you too. And somewhere there's a coroner with a white beard like Santa Claus--I tell him he doesn't look much different--and a cop who used to be his boss but is now a friend. And of course-" Mrs. Grissom stopped herself, and started looking from one side to the other.

In that moment, Sara entered the room mumbling a "hi", obviously exhausted but happy because she just closed her murder case, even if it did cost her her fair share of sleepless days. She took her cup of tea and threw herself to the couch, grabbing a book off the counter and trying to read it with her eyes half closed. Mrs. Grissom watched her do all that with curiosity, and with a tender smile on her face, she pointed to the younger lady and cried out in realization:

"Sara!"

No further explanation needed. All eyes turned to Mrs. Grissom, and Sara suddenly opened her eyes and woke up completely. She rose and walked towards the other woman with a puzzled expression:

"Yes, I am Sara Sidle from the Crime lab, ma'am. I'm sorry I got scared, it's just that I didn't see you."

"Don't worry sweetie, I noticed you must be tired. You know, I feel like I'm watching Gilbert back in college."

"She's, erm…Grissom's mother," added Sofia, a tad uncomfortable. "She's deaf, but she can read lips."

"Ohhh…"Sara stiffened a little at the 'Grissom' connection, but then smiled again, "nice to meet you Mrs. Grissom."

"Please, call me Violet. It's a pleasure to meet you," she said and shook the other smiling woman's hand. Violet had been very kind to everybody, but her expression had an extra warmth when she spoke to Sara, like when one wants somebody to feel welcome and at ease to the family. It didn't say "I like you". It said "I like you _for him_".

Grissom came to the room a while later. He went into complete shock when he saw them all chitchatting in one corner; his mother talking and signing to Sara, accommodating her hands to form what looked like a "Hello". His heart melted and he couldn't help smiling a bit seeing the two owners of his heart reunited, giggling and talking so happily to each other. Two heartbeats later, he put on his business face, and Greg tapped Violet's shoulder and pointed to where Grissom was.

"Gilbert!" She exclaimed, both in words and signs. "I wanted to surprise you!"

"Hi mom, you certainly did, I'm glad to see you here. I notice you've already met my team, and Catherine's," he added after a pause, "you all seem to get along just fine, that's good," he said to everybody, but directing his remark to Sara, who got the message. She looked at him like she had been caught stealing a cookie from the jar in the kitchen. "Am I crossing boundaries?" she seemed to ask Grissom silently with her eyes.

"I was asking her about her shirt," Violet came to the rescue, "I wanted to know where she bought it so I could buy one for Hada, you know, Amy's grand-daughter. Her birthday's coming up."

"Erm, I…I really should be getting home, it's been a long shift and I'm really tired. It was a pleasure meeting you Mrs.--Violet. Bye Grissom." Sara gave a small wave and headed toward the door.

"See you tonight, Sara." Grissom called as she left.

"Yeah. Tonight."

"Goodbye sweetie, pleasure was all mine."

"Mom," Grissom said after a long pause, "I think we should be heading home too, come on."

Grissom and his mother bid goodbye to everybody and left the break room. Moments after they were gone, Hodges tapped Nick in the shoulder and whispered in his ear "I told you she was his favourite", only to meet the other man's cold glare.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After a much-needed breakfast, Grissom and Violet sat on his couch (as comfortably as they could). The day was somewhat cold and drizzly. The rain prevented them from venturing outside. Besides, they were both too tired, and unpacking could wait. Grissom was pensive. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"So. What do you think of them?" he signed to her

"Of your team?" She signed back. "They're all lovely. I wouldn't mind being in a hot tub with the guys."

"Mom!"

"What? I may be old, but I'm still a woman with needs and I can sure appreciate masculine beauty, but seriously, they all are very funny. This guy, Warren? Warrick? Warrick. He has eyes to die for, and… " Grissom was still staring at her a bit anxiously. "But that's not what you want to know, is it?"

"Huh?" He responded, feigning ignorance.

"Come on, you can't play games with me. Ask me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ask me, what you really want to know. If you don't ask me, I won't tell you."

Grissom sighed in defeat and looked away for a moment, she wasn't going to make it any easy for him.

"What did you think of…of _Sara_?" That was the one thing he didn't appreciate at all about his mother's condition. He had to look her in the eye, even when asking embarrassing or plain difficult questions.

"She's a very nice girl!" Violet laughed at her son's embarrassment. "She's really quite pretty, and she paid attention to all my conversation. She looks sad, though."

Grissom looked down and away again at his mother's comments and whispered, "_Yes, she does._"

"You know, she reminds me of you when you were younger. She may as well be the grandchild you never gave me," finished Violet giving her son a pointed look.

"Are you messing with my mind?!" Grissom had 'Horror!' written all over his face.

"Yes, I am. And I'm gonna call her and I will teach her, so she does the same thing with you for the rest of your life, because that's what you need and what you don't have right now."

"No, I don't need it! Besides, Catherine's already given me a couple of speeches, thank you very much."

"Oh my son, sooo naïve. Anyone can give you speeches, anyone can 'read your mind' or whatever, but you need someone there to shake up your thought process and only Sara or I can do that effectively. So I'll teach her my tricks, because I can't be here always. It will come in handy the day you two g-"

"It will never come in handy." Grissom cut his mother off.

"Oh? How come?"

"Just like that. I'm a middle-aged man, work is my life, and I'm a loner. And I always will be."

"You're scared." She stated matter–of-factly.

He sighed in defeat and nodded sheepishly. Any ounce of pride he had before, now was gone.

"You're scared that she may break your heart so you're breaking hers instead. I feel proud as a mom right now (Lord, give me patience ¬¬). Don't look at me like that! This is the truth and you know it.". At this point Violet's expression changed, becoming more reflexive.

"You know," she continued, "When I was fifteen, I lived in a small town. One day, a man moved to the biggest house in town; it was very dark and creepy. We all thought it was haunted or something. No one dared to go near that house. So then, that guy took its huuuuge backyard and turned it into a garden full of the most beautiful plants one could ever imagine, and opened it for public viewing. Tons of people, locals and tourists alike, went there everyday.

"Even though that man was bitter, dark and secluded–just like his house--I really wanted to go there to see all of those plants and flowers, and specially, to paint them. Problem was, I only had time to go at lunch, and that was the time he closed the garden. So I did what I had to do. I snuck into the house, of course.

"Every single day I went there with paper and pencil and stared at a random plant, trying to absorb all its details in my mind, for the entire lunch hour. The man always caught me, but I would always come back day after day. I had trouble finishing a painting because everyday I focused on a different plant, so I had a bunch of sketches, but nothing definitive. One day he grabbed me and took me to the house, and he gave me the 'you obnoxious brat, don't come again at lunch, don't stare at my plants and get away from my garden,' speech. And I responded to him! I told him that 1. I was deaf, I was not being rude when I hadn't paid attention to him, 2. I couldn't come here at any other time and, 3. I wanted to paint those plants and there was nothing he could do to stop me.

"Then I followed him into his kitchen and dished myself up some of his spaghetti a La formaggio – much to his dismay - (that stuff is delicious, by the way!), and then I forced him to take me back outside and show me the garden. I shocked him with questions about everything. He looked at me like I was on a kamikaze mission, about to blow up the place.

"That routine repeated itself for several years–my high school and college years--and ultimately I was finally able to finish up a painting from his garden. It was of his beautiful orchids. The mystery man had gone from ogre-like and scary, to plain annoyed. In time he answered some of my questions just so I wouldn't ask them anymore and he'd let me eat some of the food he made because he knew I would do it anyway. The speeches stopped when he realized I never listened to them. But I really couldn't say I had a new friend or anything like that–I mean, he still called me 'brat' and all.

"Anyway, I had finished up my painting a while ago, and then came the opportunity to go to New York to show my paintings at a gallery. Among other paintings, I brought my Orchid one and guess what? My work sold out quickly! And for a large amount of money too. I had even larger shows, they kept me busy and loaded all year long. Then, I got an offer to stay in NY for good; they had a really good job for me. Of course I took that offer immediately! It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. I went back to my hometown to pack up my stuff and I decided to take a peek at that beautiful garden again.

"When I entered, though, I noticed the garden was gone. Well, not gone, but given up on. Flowers were withered, plants were leafless, and everything looked like it hadn't been visited or taken care of in months. My first thought was 'He must have left'. My heart sunk, I felt like crying. I went up into the house for one last visit. I wanted to have one more memory of my time there, just to be there one more time before I went away for good. Walking through the house, in the living room, to my surprise, I found a beautiful potted plant, full of blossoming blue flowers. It didn't match the rest of the musty, unused room at all. When I entered into the kitchen however, I saw _him_ there. He was a lot thinner then I remembered. Now extremely pale, he had an unkempt beard along his chin. A cup of tea was clenched in his hands. When he turned around and saw me, I could see the glitter taking over his eyes…his expression remained the same, utterly stoic, but his eyes…he simply blinked, looked at me, and said: 'you didn't come yesterday.'"

Violet was quietly crying at that point. Grissom was too stunned for words. She quietly wiped away her tears and recomposed herself. After several minutes of silence, Grissom finally was able to softly tell her:

"Dad used to tell me a different story."

"He told you we dated for a long time before getting married. It's not a different story, it's _his_ version of the story. Honestly, I kind of liked it, that's why I never corrected him." She had a sad smile on her face while saying this. "I didn't have to leave New York and come back home. I could have stayed there and had somebody send me my stuff, and I would have spent the rest of my life thinking I had been just a burden to him and pinning over it, and he would have died all alone simply waiting everyday for me to come back, taking care of his violet plant and thinking I hated him, and we would have never gotten married, and you wouldn't exist. Losing your chance to love over your own stupidity is the worst thing one can do."

"50 years of life, and you never taught me that lesson before," he responded with an ounce of weak sarcasm.

"You were never in love before. You know better than anybody how hard it was for me when your father died-I still don't think I'll ever stop missing him. But the one thing that comforts me is that the last thing I said to him was 'I love you', and the last thing he said to me was 'I love you too'. We both know that, and it makes the wait easier for both of us. Gilbert, I feel full of life and I'm completely healthy, but I'm old, and one of these days God may give your father permission to come for me. I really don't want to leave this place fearing that you may end up the way your father and I were heading before we found each other again. It's in your genes, you have to fight against it if you want to be happy, and God knows I want you to be happy.

"I don't know if I can do that."

"I'm sure you can. I want you to have this," she said, and unclasped the beautiful rosary bead she had hanging from her neck. Putting it in his outstretched hand she smiled, "He gave me this rosary the day we got married, as a reminder of our love and all we went through. I want you to keep it, you need this more than me now, it may give you strength and hopefully it will help you remember what I've said to you. Maybe take it into consideration, you know, before it's too late."

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Two weeks later, he got the scare of his life. Some mental patient almost slashed Sara's neck and all of his mother's words came flooding back in the form of a migraine. That Sunday, he took a long look at his mother's rosary, picked up his phone and did what he knew he should have done a long, long, long time ago.

"Hi, Sara? It's Grissom. I ah, I called you because…well, I was, ah…I was wondering if you could come to my house to, ah…"

**THE END.**

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I had the idea of calling Grissom's mom Violet because if Grissom, who is an entomologist, fell in love with a butterfly, Mr. Grissom, who was a botanicist, could as well had fallen in love with a flower. It makes sense, I think.


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